Bending the Truth
by Vana E
Summary: Crossover of LotR, Avatar and V for Vendetta aka Earth. Set in Middle earth, new things start happening that no one can explain. Is it a blessing or a curse? One has to live it to find out. AU Bookverse. Warnings inside. Review?
1. Prologue

**AN:** I KNOW I shouldn't be starting another fanfic after rarely completing any, but I am working on that. Two Strangers, I can't complete the next chapter until i get some reviews. So you COULD call this shameless plugging. But anyway, I hope you can enjoy this in the hope that reviews and critical responses will urge my hand back into writing again. It's been too long.this story has been noted down in full and I have just about all aspects covered. It is an evolving plot that reveals itself piece by piece, so don't expect to be getting answers to many questions till later in the piece.  
It will be a long one, but I might be able to wrang out a chapter a week if my moods are up.

**Story Warnings:** Mostly mental anguish and some gore later on. My reason for making this M is mostly due to me knowing what I am capable of, and I am not a light and happy person in my writing style. Yes I can sometimes portray a positive setting, but the story will eventually contain darkness I would not like younger children to be subjected to. Sorry guys, but it's that simple.

**Chapter Warnings:** None

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing of Tolkien and only borrow his creations for my own sick perverted pleasure. And sometimes I'm nice to them.

**Summery:** In Middle Earth, things are changing. A miracle some say, but it is a curse in other's eyes and the dispute reigns on. In the middle of it all stands a small group of people of all races, seperated by time and distance. But soon, time catches up and the immortals find themselves in the middle, literally, of something far beyond their comprehension. Crossover LotR/Avatar/V for Vendetta aka Earth...but due to it's base being in LotR, I'd rather say the other two worlds are merely an excuse for me to write this story.

**_Prologue_**

The world was flat, that was a fact. The stars spinning above were encased in a dome made from air of blue seen by those who walked the lands below. But it was there, it was fact. The sun and moon, named Anor and Ithil respectively were guided above by their carriers; Arien, her firey hand holding the sun and Tilion, holding his moon with unsteady grace. More facts. The Valar and Maia spirits watched over the natural magic of the world, keeping the water flowing and air recurring.

These were facts.

What was not a fact was the possibility of travel beyond the domains of the world, into the Void and beyond. To think there was anything beyond that, beyond time even, was a ridiculous notion and one many had dismissed at first hearing. Except a few.

-------

Hirgon was named far later in life than was considered normal. His parents, traditionalists to the core, wanted to name him for who he was, not what they thought he could be. The unfortunate thing of naming any child of the Firstborn was the mistake so many had made before, that all names should mean something. Too often the case occurred that those who's names were the complete opposite or were too different from their character would change them, often resulting in many lost links to bloodlines of the past.

The child was called 'Elf' for the first three years of his life, or Edhel as the translation goes. It wasn't until he was halfway through his third year that his mother discovered something unusual about her son.

She wandered the halls of her home, dousing a few of the lights as she passed and leaving small pools of golden light in the moonlit gloom of late night. Sometimes she would stop and straighten a tapestry or wipe an unseen smudge off a mirror with her sleeve. She hummed quietly as she finished up with her patrol and turned to go back to her family quarters. Breathing in the fresh air wafting through the open corridors, she paused at one of the many balconies that overlooked the majestic valley.

The soft spray from the waterfalls seemed to sit like a kind of floating river circling Imladris, the full moon shining strongly overhead. With only a soft breeze, the shadows of trees barely moved and yet one could always hear the slight rustling of air going through their branches. At this time of night, it was the quiet time between the time their Lord and Lady went to bed (which was commonly very late) and the time the early household would wake up.

Leaning out over the stone balustrade, she let her eyes wander and thought, not for the first time, how lucky she was to be in her position. Her husband was a member of Lord Elrond's Council with a comfortable amount of decorations for strategic manoeuvres against the building orc opposition that had led to great victories. Thanks to him, the valley had been saved from total invasion on at least three counts over the eighty years he had been in the Council. He was now a respected member and leader of the newly created military section; the other four members being generals and captains in their own right and the five of them had created the section in the hope to improve defence even further.

She sighed as she thought about the last twenty odd years, though peaceful for once were filled with meetings and patrols, their time together being so spare that it wasn't until Edhel was born that her husband had removed himself from the field and continued work from within his office. This allowed them always more time to see each other, and often she brought their son with her and they would watch him as he would roll around on the floor, chirping in his sweet melodious voice.

He was going to be a fine singer one day, she thought to herself, but it was simply not enough to name him after such a skill. Singing was a major part of their culture, but not enough in her eyes to lay upon someone for their eternal life. One could have called her obsessed for this, but she reasoned it was merely her wish for their child to have a perfect and normal life. Names inclusive.

Coming back to the present, her eyes focussed down on a small rocky pathway. It seemed as though someone was moving along it, a bundle in their arms. She squinted, then gave a little gasp. The hooded figure had placed the bundle on the ground and it had been revealed to be her own dear Edhel, the figure revealed as being his nurse.

She made to call out to them, but stopped herself as she watched with widening eyes at what occurred that night.

For many nights afterwards, Edhel's mother would come past that balcony and watch him and his nanny there on the pathway. It was soon apparent to her that it was the perfect and safest spot in the Valley for a small child to do what he could do. The pebbles of the pathway were smooth and not brittle and had been selected for quality, and with the larger yet also smooth stones lining the path, his skills could spread and evolve. Also it was a generally isolated area surrounded by bushes and trees and it was safe to reason that no one walked the balcony there this late at night. Except a peeping mother.

She watched with curious eyes as his small hands performed miraculous things with the stones. Sometimes he would perform a type of juggling trick, except the stones never touched his hands and were not obeying the simple laws of gravity. Giggling he let them hover, then circle round his head until they would form some sort of crown before falling out of mid air and scattering on the ground.

When this occurred, he often looked ready to cry before his nanny would kneel down next to him and start talking softly. His mother never could hear what was being said, but the process of what followed was always the same. The other woman would pick up a pebble and then let it hover in the palm of her hand. It had been obvious from the start that the two shared the same amazing skills and his mother smiled softly as her boy focussed on the stone now floating in his own hand.

It was into the third week of watching in on these midnight lessons when she made up her mind and went to fetch her husband.

She knew the timetable. The nanny always had waited till she had gone to bed before bringing the child outside. The only reason she had not been in bed that first time, was because she had woken up realizing she had not dampened the lights in the main house. Maerwen would not have been pleased with her and she never did like getting on the wrong side of the head housekeeper. Even though she was practically second to the top, sometimes Maerwen would get into moods where she would be treated like she was when she was still green at her work. The older elf was like this mostly when delegates from other Elven lands would come to visit their Lord, usually she was quite nice. But the Home was her domain and lo forbid it lest a smudge be on a surface for more than two minutes!

About half an hour before the lessons on the stone pathway would begin, she dragged her sleepy husband through the halls of the house. Often she stopped and he jolted awake behind her, before she would pull him further on.

He didn't know what was going on and didn't really have the energy to care. The day had been very long with two humans coming in from a village nearby to converse about trading possibilities. Due to his grasp of Common being so rusty, he found the meeting hard to follow and it had left him with a pounding headache. He vowed to learn that language if it killed him. In any case, he trusted that his wife had something important to show him, and that it should wake him up nonetheless. They reached the balcony after taking many diversions and doubling back a couple of times. About now he was starting to wake up and his curiosity was piqued.

"Now, we wait." Was the soft whisper of his wife.

He stared at her for a moment, then followed her gaze to where he saw merely a pathway down below, and the rest of the garden there. There was nothing else and he looked at her curiously. She said nothing and kept her eyes on the path, he raised an eyebrow and watched with her for few more minutes.

He started getting fidgety and opened his mouth, "Wha..."

"Shh, they are here." She whispered. And then he was silent as they both watched the cloaked figured holding the hand of a small child who hopped and giggled as they approached the bend in the path.

He could see now why this was a good observing place. With the moon shining above and behind them, the eaves of the balcony cast the interior and anyone inside in deep shadow. And yet it lit up that one bend in the pathway below where his son was pulling up gravel and pebbles from the path, compacting them into one solid rock and rolling it around. All this without ever touching them and formulating aeons of creation within mere seconds.

"Isn't it wonderful." Came the soft voice of his wife, her eyes still fixed on the sight below. "A few weeks ago he could barely lift the pebbles, and in the future he can form so many wonderful things. Our son has a gift, and now he can be named." She looked up at him then and her smile faded instantly. "Melethnín, what is the matter?"

His frown deepened and he shook his, motioning for her to be silent as he took her hand and draw her away down another hallway.

He could feel her questioning gaze burn into his back as they walked swiftly and silently though the halls of the widely-spaced house. They crossed two courtyards before he heard her give a small gasp in recognition of where they were heading. The Lord and Lady's quarters lay ahead and he veered left, going instead up to the next level to where the young princes were sleeping.

Eventually they came to the door and she hung back a bit, shaking her head and whispering oh so quietly.

"We mustn't. We are not of the Noble house and I don't even come up here unless I need to fill in for Maerwen, and I know for a fact that she has not gone on one of her odd pilgrimages down to those human places as I saw her just a few hours ago." She gave him a stern look, but he was not deterred and shook his head. He pushed open the door to reveal the large round room that was open along at least a third of the wall. This opening was framed in light see-through curtains that shifted ever so slightly in the breeze and the moonlight, now that they had arced around so that if they looked out the window they would be facing the other balcony, streamed in. It gave enough light to see that the twins had done their usual habit of pushing their beds up close to each other and they could see two mussed brown heads quite close together.

He smiled slightly and heard his wife sigh beside him. They both had experience, both personal and due to hearing other's stories, with the irritation of the two boys always needing to be close to each other. She had sometimes taken over for Maerwen to care for the higher quarters and had seen this personally and had often let them be. The head housekeeper, on the other hand, would separate the beds every morning only to find them back this way every night. She kept doing it though, no matter how often she was told it was a lost cause, but she would not be deterred from perfection and nowadays they simply never mentioned it anymore and hoped the young princes would grow out of it soon.

Considering the boys were in their twenty third year, it now seemed unlikely to be a habit they would drop...ever.

He went inside and moved over to the washbasin set on a low table over to one side. He then motioned for her to watch and dipped his hand in, cupping some water in his palm and moved over to the beds. And then without any warning, he tossed the water over them and she gasped, ready to dash for the door the moment the shock would hit them.

But it never did.

She moved closer to the beds, eyes opened wide in wonder.

The drops of water circled the bed, floating gently and drawing closer together to form a thin solid band of water that moved around just above their sleeping bodies. It glistened magically before her eyes and she felt the arms of her husband encircle her waist.

"Edhel's crown." she whispered, leaning her head on her husband's shoulder as he held her and they watched the new miracle.

Then suddenly the twins shifted position at the same time and the band silently exploded outwards, spraying them lightly, but never touching the twins.

Blinking, he wiped the water from his face and drew her outside, closing the door with a quiet snick. They walked down back to their own quarters in silence, both deep in thought about what they had seen that night.

After they had walked for a few minutes, he sighed and stopped.

"They are not the only ones. There are at least three more accounts, two are children like our boy and the Lord's. One is female and her brother is one of the other two males, but he is much older. In fact he is well past his age of maturity and is one of the trainees for the Boarder Patrol. But his younger sister is merely ten, and the other boy is nineteen." He frowned and leaned up against a wall, staring at his wife thoughtfully. "It has not begun with our son, though do not get me wrong, I find it indeed a miracle. They have been able to move the elements for decades, maybe centuries, but we have yet to find anyone who is older than Beinion."

"Why did you not tell me this before?" She stared right back into his eyes.

He shook his head and they continued walking. "This has been a thing only shared amongst those higher in the Council and those who's children have the gift." He took her hand gently. "I was under an oath to keep it secret, even from you, until Lord Elrond deems it right to expose. But now that you are now also part of this temporary secret, the oath is finally void between us." He kissed her fingers lightly as they stopped again. Her hand came up to brush against his dark locks. "I do not like keeping secrets from you."

She smiled and they continued on their walk, though at a more sedate and thoughtful pace.

Oaths were an engrained importance in their lives, in the lives of all elves as a whole. One of the more famous oaths in history described Fëanor, the maker of the Simarils who made an unbreakbale Oath to find back the three holy stones from the hands of Morgoth. The oath to go against the evil Valar bled into his sons and cursed them all into damnation for the evils they committed in trying to get back the stones.

_They swore an oath which none shall break, and none should take, by the name even of __Ilúvatar__, calling the Everlasting Dark upon them if they kept it not._

It was a powerful thing, an oath, and not one anyone would take lightly if made. Privately he wondered how old their nanny was.

Eventually they reached their own quarters and stopped outside the room of their son, watching him from the doorway. The nanny's bed lay a few feet from his with them both breathing deep in exhausted sleep.

"I thought of a name." She said when they lay in bed, letting sleep wash over them.

"Mmm?" he hummed, shifting slightly. "What is it?"

"Hirgon."

There was a moment silence.

"Rock Lord?"

"Yes."

"But will that not rise in competition to the other Lords of the house?"

She hugged him close. "Not with a gift like his."

He chuckled in agreement and they wondered about what the future held for their son, and they each secretly thought of the look on their nanny's face when she heard the name he was to be given. It would lead to many questions for sure, and hopefully more answers.

TBC...

**Notes:** All elvish I got from this site ht tp://w ww. arwen-undo miel. com /index. html and any mistakes I may have made with it are to be blamed on my ignorance and general inability to find other worthier Elvish sources.

Please review. Leave a critique? Something? It really helps boost my confidence and tells me where I may need to improve. And yes this chapter was quite light and fluffy and we shall see where it leads next. Yours truly, Vana E.


	2. Preparations of Existance

**AN:** I have been sick lately and doing too much for my body to catch up. Also been having some...uhm...home problems. But that is neither here nor there and here is the first actual chapter for your enjoyment. I am hoping it does not confuse you too much and may your questions and criticisms be many and thought-provoking :). Review responses at the bottom.

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Tolkien and Avatar. And any extra bits that look familiar, that don't belong to me either. I just meddle.

**Chapter Warnings:** Some gore, definitely touching into AU territory now.

**Chapter Summery:** Life? Death? It all becomes one really until the Gift is touched upon.

* * *

_**Preparations of Existance**_

"Awake! Awake! We are under attack!"

Hirgon's eyes shot open and he pushed back the covers of his bed, grabbing for his clothes on the bedpost and getting dressed in a brisk and practised fashion. The murmers and bustling around of his fellow comrades in their bunker was a familiar thing and he wondered vacantly how many hours he had slept that night. Four, maybe less. It was normal to be woken up nowadays maybe three to four times a week and sleep was becoming a much prized luxury.

Shrugging on his leather jerkin, he strapped it closed and started his swift walk down the rows of beds to the armoury door that was linked to their room.

The barracks were basically large rooms carved from the rock of the valley itself, due to lack of space and desire to change the vision that was Imladris. They were open and airy but only had small narrow windows near the ceilings, and so needed lamplight almost all the time. But they were comfortable and warm during the colder months, and cool during the summers. Each bunker had a separate armoury that contained the specified and fitted armour for each individual within that room. And now with ranks swelling from the amount of refugees that were coming in from the south, they were running out of space. It was becoming more apparent by the day that soon they would have to cut out more room from the rock and the dilemma was building. How?

When the rooms were first built, there were more elder elves alive from the First Age. Their knowledge of craft was immense and stonemasons had come over the mountains from Greenwood to help in it's construction. But now, since the Great War, the craft was lost. Stonemasons of the Valley were purely artists and they had carved the more decorative parts of the home, within and out. And as for those dwelling in Greenwood, no one knew if any still existed. They either were keeping them secret or they were simply all gone.

He reached the door and pushed past the others scrambling to get their gear. Going to his section, Hirgon pulled the chainmail from the rack and donned it with more practised ease. Having been in the military for ten years now, he was no longer Green and was now a fully-fledged melee fighter and could hold his own well in battle. But he still needed protection and didn't spare on the amount he was giving himself. Leather greaves around his legs, a tough leather battle skirt flapping round his thighs, followed by a harness, chainmail coif going over his head with a dark leather helmet strapped under his chin and all tapped off with full hand covering bracers and pauldrons over his shoulders.

It took him all about ten minutes.

He was one of the few in their section who were so bulky in their appearance and who were required to wear so much equipment. The main reason for this was his bodybuild. He was a specialist on being able to hold his ground and be a rock for the rest of the finesse fighters who would do their dance of death as he held off blows aimed for their weak spots. Having a more defined muscle build and being a bit shorter than most, he could keep his balance and perch perfectly on one foot on the edge of a cliff if he had to while fighting half a dozen orcs. This had also led to a level of kinesthesia that baffled many who watched him fight, and often odd things would occur around him that required explanation, but received none.

He grabbed his double swords and marched out of the barracks, walking with the rest of the section to merge with others as they walked out into the late night sky with a new moon. The darkness was unsettling, but he steeled himself and moved with the others to the main gates to await the cavalry.

The air was still, but the distant sounds of battle were distinctly coming closer and he was getting anxious to fight. The energy was working it's way up through his body and concentrating in his hands, itching to get out. He held it in check and waited till the horses had thundered past before moving with the rest of the footsoldiers in the direction of the attack. He hated orcs, more than most could understand, but the reasons were understandable enough to others when they saw it hone his concentration and made him a stocky sword windmill.

He wasn't an archer, nor much of a horseman and his father who had been a cavalier during his days on the field had worried for a long time about his son and his career choice. But then, after years of struggling, he started to shine. The time and effort he put into his swords after he came of age made up for all the years he had been under the levels of expectation and even though he and his father could understand fully why this was so, it still had irked him throughout that hard time of growing up that he was so slow in development in areas that most elven children had grasped so much earlier than him.

But he was skillful now, and that was all that mattered.

"Hirgon!"

He turned to the voice that had called his name as he marched and silently groaned. Outside though, his face was a mask of indifference and readiness for battle. Elrohir, the youngest son of Lord Elrond fell behind on his horse to come ride back next to the younger elf.

"What is it, my Lord?"

The elf looked down at him and frowned. "My father wished to speak with you once this attack is through. In fact, he wished to speak with all of us."

Hirgon blinked at that and looked back up at the other who shared his...extra abilities. Though he was the only one who was different to the others in their small group, the Council had deliberated that they all shared a common gift and were in constant search for another like himself. So far, at least within their Valley, it had been a fruitless search but no one was willing to share their secret to anyone yet in the other Elven realms. And so the feeling of isolation in his life continued, even though the twins did try to make him feel a little bit special. At least Elladan did, Elrohir was more of a prankster and tended to like prodding his nerves in attempts to see what Hirgon could do. Sometimes though the Lord could be civil, like now.

Problem was he was still different and now that a meeting was being called for them all, a rare occurrence, he wondered if they had finally found someone. He was tired of being alone.

"I will be there," he answered, giving then young Lord a nod. The other nodded back, nudging his horse back up to the front in a soft trot.

Battle was closer and he could now hear the shouts of orders, a merged roar of growls and guttural voices and clashing of weapons. He listened hard, the rest of the troop silent in watchful anticipation. By the time they reached the top of the small cliff overlooking the Valley he had measured it to be a few hundred or more putting them under attack. Then they arrived.

He could barely see orc for elf in the darkness but charged in anyway, spreading his senses out and 'feeling' for the enemy. The lack of trees in the clearing was hazardous, but at least once they started pushing them back, the cover of the surrounding forest would do nicely.

"Keep to my right and I'll hold your back." said a voice close to him. He turned and saw the dim shaggy face of his friend Morcion, a member of the shield wall and similarly dressed as himself.

Born with a full head of short dark wavy hair, many had considered him to be quite the freak when he had started growing a beard too. Though he kept it relatively well trimmed, it was still a noticeable feature and one many poked fun at; that is until they were told that Lord Círdan of Mithlond had the same feature and it was a sign of spiritual respect direct from the Valar.

That usually shut them up.

Being a fellow freak, Morcion was the only one outside of the group that knew of his secret. But they both respected each other for their little 'differences' and their friendship had grown strong and steady.

Hirgon smiled grimly and held to the other elf's right, both becoming a solid block of armour, shielding and sharp edges. It was then the battle finally reached them and Hirgon gave a wordless battle cry, the sound blending in with many others. The clash of swords, yelling and the distinct twang of bows as they released their deadly barrage towards the enemy were all the sounds they could distinguish in the confusion. The border patrol was only a small group of twenty odd scouts but they had held off a good two hundred orcs, as the count was made clear, before the backup had arrived. They were now falling back to let the fresher fighters in and allow the horses to mow down the disgusting growling and ugly creatures.

Hirgon passed an injured scout as he was being helped back to the Home and gave him a nod of respect. The other smiled painfully and hobbled on, a tourniquet wrapped tight around his upper leg and many cuts adorning his body and face. Hirgon shook his head and pushed his sword deep into the belly of an oncoming orc, who then spat black blood into his face before keeling over dead.

The elf he had just seen would most likely not survive the night, he could see the sad signs of poison already ravaging his system. Pale face, dilated pupils and also the distinct rancid smell coming from the arrow wound on his leg that was most likely already seeping puss.

Lord Elrond, though a fine loremaster, had yet to discover a cure or treatment for such poisons and it was usually a death sentence to be hit by one of those arrows. So far only one had ever escaped it but he had been maimed by blindness and had been spending his life since being a musician each night in the Hall of Fire. The rest of the time he spent in solitude and silence and his existence had become a lonely one.

He felt a shudder on his left and brought his swords around, neatly slicing into the side of a beast that had hammered itself into Morcion's shield and forcing it to it's knees. Morcian wiped the dust from his eyes and nodded his thanks before he rammed his shield into the downed orc's face and sent it into oblivion.

The fighting around them was slowly growing intolerable. It seemed endless, as though they were swarming from organised factions. As though someone had guided them to this point and he just couldn't see the end of them, even though the organization of orcs was nearly unheard of. The main archers on the elven side were consistently straining their eyes to pinpoint the archers from the other side. Though it was known that there was only one archer to two dozen orcs, it was already one archer too many with their arrows of certain death a constant threat. He had seen already several comrades go down and not get back up and the worry was starting to build. Would they be able to hold this lot off? Would he be able to forgive himself?

He found some amusement within his darkened mind amidst the battle around at the thought. To feel guilty for not using his "gift", or so they called it, to help somewhat. But it had been already years since the rules had been laid down and one of them had been not to use the gift in public. It was a constant frustration and he very rarely obeyed it.

This was not one of those rare times and he gave Morcion a nudge in the side, giving him a known look that told him to keep his ground. The shaggy elf looped his arm around Hirgon's and held on as the other, after putting his swords away, started his hand motions.

If one were watching him, they might have seen him acting as though he was trying to direct some sort of orchestral masterpiece. But instead, he was really forming waves. Waves of energy forming below the surface of the earth, bubbling to reach the top and turning the ground beneath their feet into a rolling mass that was unnoticeable unless you were actually standing there. They had placed themselves deep within the battle, away from their group with orcs on all sides that seemed to have trouble keeping their feet.

Falling over and slipping slightly, one managed to get close enough to scour a deep cut into Hirgon's leg which caused him to raise a small boulder above the surface by accident. He hissed in pain, then suddenly his eyes went dark and the orc dissapeared beneath the rolling earth with barely a ripple to show it ever existed. He did not like being distracted at all, a characteristic Morcion and others had quickly learned to never test. The rest of the creatures around, seeing their comrade be sucked into a sudden quicksand, scrambled through the rumbling and rolling earth to try to reach safety. But one by one they all were pulled down with only a sigh and maybe a cut off scream and it was all too soon that the area around them was clear of the creatures and they could finally fight through to those damnable archers that were ever raining down death upon them.

The earth had settled and the two elves crept forward to the cover of trees, trying to approach the enemy from the side or from behind if they weren't too far back.

Back in the midst of battle, Elrohir slashed and fought his way through the masses having lost his mount nearly at the beginning. The arrow wound in his shoulder irritated his already raw nerves and he viciously wiped the sweat from his bow, parrying yet another killing blow. Having snapped the shaft once he got his wind back, he knew his brother had yet to know that he was injured and, by the feel of things, most likely dying. It was a concept he wasn't really prepared for and he wondered what it would be like for others to experience the true meaning of immortality. Even some of the men of Anor were older than him now, and they were mortal!

Feeling a bit offended, he continued to fight and ignored the ever building feeling of lethargy and pain throbbing out from the swelling wound now ripe with hastened infection. It was this distraction that started making his blows fall wide and too often he narrowly missed a sudden death from the orcs taking advantage of this.

Then suddenly his luck ran out and a hard blow to the back of his head made him stand stock still in shock. His sword dropping from limp fingers, his eyes staring at one person in an ever lengthening tunnel, Elrohir son of Elrond fell, his brother watching in helplessness and horror.

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It had been the largest battle to date, one that many for years after named as 'The Battle of Heros' and envoys were already being sent out to contact the other elven realms about the current circumstance and to bring together a meeting of leaders. It was time they reinforced their alliances and understand where they stood in the world.

The Lord and Lady were seated upon a temporary dais to oversee the proceedings and to look the part. Many could see this was putting tremendous strain on them both and especially Lady Celebrian, considering she was heavily expecting and her health was so fragile. It seemed so sad that such a joyful event should occur during such a sad time. That the child to be born would be missing a brother or even both as there had been no sign of Elladan since they had returned. It was a grievous thing indeed. Many had the similar idea that Elladan would never leave his brother's side, even in death, and would follow him there.

"And honours do go towards Morcion and Hirgon, for their brave infiltration to take out the archers that were causing us so much devastation!" The herald read from a piece of parchment, held in outstretched arms. A large crowd was gathered in the Hall of Fire and all were listening intently. "And honours do go towards now Captain Hebion, who took up our beloved and fallen Captain Castion's sword and threw down the remaining orcs ascending upon Lord Elrohir and received his new command! And honours do go towards the rest of you brave souls, for your steadfastness and bravery in the face of odds you have not seen for many a year, some never before! For this, you are blessed and may our Valley reside in peace for many years to come!"

He rolled up the parchment and bowed his head to the three named heros of the day who stood near the front of the crowd, though the mood was decidedly somber. Hebion, now clean though weary after the battle, obviously was not feeling deserving of the praise. He had not reached the young Lord in time and now the still young soul was dying a slow death in the healers ward from the poison so many had succumbed to before him. But considering he had removed the threat of Elrohir being mutilated by the grotesque beasts, many, the Lord and Lady inclusive, were grateful for that small blessing amongst the grief.

Hebion simply didn't feel it fair so many had to die so young, while he continued to live and live. He was not as old as to be able to boast of much in his past, but he had been in the Great War between Sauron, elves and humans and had watched too many die young there too. He had now been given the responsibility to keep others alive, and he was determined to devote his own life to it.

------

The day was getting old with the sun setting behind the high cliffs at mid afternoon and casting the Valley in shadow. The healers ward had been bustling since early that morning when the injured had been first brought in, but slowly the frenzy had died down and it was only a matter of waiting. There had been many of those poisoned arrows finding their targets before Morcion and Hirgon had managed to stop them. No one had asked what had happened to the bodies, they never did. It was always a waste of time.

As the darkness increased, candles and lamps were being lit with intentions different for each. The lanterns were for casting light to see by, and the candles were for a more somber purpose. With the risk of fatal poisoning being so great whenever an attack was countered, a stock of tallowed white candles was consistently renewed as a symbolic icon for a life being taken too soon. They were lit when the victim would fall into a coma and had been made and timed to such perfect size that it was almost the exact moment that life would leave the body that the candle would finally sputter out and the flame would die along with the unfortunate victim.

The time between coma and death was so precise, many wondered where such a sophisticated poison had come from and had finally deliberated one conclusion. It had been made during Sauron's reign of terror, when his inventiveness and cruelty was at it's peak and when timing had been most crucial to all his plans. The orcs had simply carried this poison into the current era and due to it's potency being less with dilution, they had only used it on their arrows of which there was always a constant supply.

In a dimly lit corner of the ward separated by draping white sheets of linen, a candle burned. It was nearly down to the base and was rapidly becoming one of the only ones left burning at all as others within the ward blinked out. The building darkness only added to the grief as soft sobs and weeping sounded out from other beds, families losing sons and loved ones with every dying flame.

Elladan lay on the bed next to his brother with his back to the flickering light. His eyes were only for his twin who lay so still and pale, his breath only a faint whisper and slowly becoming fainter. The grief in his heart had died away hours before when the candle had first been lit and had become merely a feeling of assurance and relief. Relief at the growing knowledge in his heart that he would not be alone for long, that he would follow and Mandos would grant him passage. Relief that it would be soon. Relief that they would never again be apart.

He saw the beads of sweat roll over Elrohir's heated brow and brushed them away with his fingers, reaching over blindly behind himself to hold his hand over the bowl on the side table. His intention to grab the washcloth never came to be as the water simply obeyed his questing fingers and pulled apart from the bowl. It formed a ball under his hand and he pull it over his own body to float above his brother's head and he came out of his daze long enough to see the dilemma. Frowning at the water, he let it bob upside-down in his palm like a type of bubble that would stick to their hands when they would bathe. He pushed his fingers into the liquid and felt the coolness surround them, then letting the water encase his whole hand in it's refreshing wetness. Now his entire hand seemed to be contained in a liquid glove of sorts and he lowered it to Elrohir's face and used it as a type of washcloth.

The water washed away the salty sweat or simply absorbed it for his skin was dry to the touch after it had passed and he let the Waterhand, as he dubbed it, pass down over his cheeks and neck. Looking after his brother like this made him feel as though he could make some sort of difference before they both slipped away, at least in his appearance. He looked less flushed and seemed to be closer to a natural sleep than a sickly coma so it seemed that he would make a more attractive figure to their parents when they would come upon them later. They had allowed him these last hours with his brother alone through the understanding that they simply did not have the connection with him as Elladan had. And he knew that they knew they would lose both sons tonight.

As he wiped down Elrohir's skin, he noticed dimly a commotion coming from the other side of the sheets of material separating them from the rest of the ward. Straining his ears he managed to capture a few words.

"...ready to...new life...noble healing rooms..."

He smiled slightly and settled down even closer to his brother, letting the Waterhand drop down upon his chest and soak through the thin material of the bedsheets. He didn't relax it though as the coolness was soothing to him right now while his mind still roamed the physical world of the living.

His mother was giving birth at this very moment to a new brother or sister. He knew she had known what it would be from the very start but she had been cheekily secretive about it. A factor he rather regretted due to realizing he would never find out.

New life. The thought made him smile and he closed his eyes, letting his head fall onto his brother's uninjured shoulder, the water slowly loosening itself from his hand. His body was feeling heavy and tired, as though he was expending a sudden amount of energy and he sighed, thinking it was the effects of the candle finally spluttering out and the life leaving Elrohir's body with himself certainly following. But moments passed, and the body beneath his hand and head did not still. In fact, if he was thinking clearly at the time, it would seem as though the breathing was becoming more defined and the heartbeat stronger. The candle had indeed gone out, but Elrohir certainly had not and it was this sudden thought that made Elladan blink and find himself staring straight at the hand on his twin's chest.

There was still some water surrounding it but it was now an inky sort of colour with a strange black glow, the source of which was hard to pinpoint. With there still being a few candles alight in the ward, he peered at it in concentration and watched the glow become stronger and the water much darker. It was as though it was filling up with darkness, but darkness simply did not glow and he pulled it away from his brother's body and nearly fell off the bed when his chest heaved up with the hand and he could see a tendril of dark liquid still connecting the hand to the body.

Elladan shifted his head and peered at his brother's face which was screwing up in pain, concentration or...something else. Something that he should not even be hoping for at such a time. Something that should not even be possible.

Elrohir was waking up and as the tendril finally disconnected, he opened his eyes and stared straight back into Elladan's shocked ones. The water soaked heavily into the sheets and stained them darkly as his whole body lost energy in frozen amazement and hope.

"You had better not be thinking this is a dream," he croaked out, touching Elladan's face gently.

The other clasped the hand to his cheek and merely stared dumbly, shaking his head in numb supplication.

"If this were a dream, then my fears would be that I would wake up and find you gone from this world and I had not followed." Elladan whispered.

"It is not, and I have not." Elrohir smiled tiredly and tilted his head. "And I am curious why this is so."

Elladan opened his mouth to reply and then froze as the realization came over him. He had done this, the Gift had done this. It had saved his life! Why had they not come across such a miracle before?

The time was not for such thoughts though and he quickly pushed himself up from the bed, muscles protesting against being moved in such a way after being so still for so many hours. His mind was already racing ahead and keying together all the possibilities and such hope rose in his heart he felt as though he would burst.

His brother was alive! A thing unheard of for someone so afflicted with such deadly toxins that the mortality rate was was almost absolute. Was it due to their bond? He didn't think so, for although he could feel the pull of his other half as a constant tug on his mind and soul, he had never felt what he had felt when the water had started changing colour. It had pulled the poison from his body, it had cured him, and all he could do was stare at the once dying form of his brother now sitting up and staring at him in curiosity.

"Elladan. What is it?"

The other snapped out of his daze and stared back at his twin. "We must gather all Gift Wielders together immediately, starting within this very room." And with that he had pulled back the curtains vigorously and was already calling out to whoever would listen.

Many glared at him with hard faces when he demanded for a healer to come forward, but his sharp gaze silenced them immediately and for some reason those who's loved one's candle had not yet diminished had a sudden hope flare in their hearts. His gaze was purposeful and he stance solid as he spoke with a healer and she immediately hurried from the room, leaving him to look with more focus at the rest of the victims. Striding forward he went to the first bed and did not hesitate to place his hand into the standard bowl on the side table, covering his hand in the water and pulling it out.

There was the victim's father staring at him, half in shock and half in wonder as he brought the Waterhand down to the body of his son and closed his eyes in concentration. He seemed to frown for a moment before a wail pierced his mind and he let it fill his body with it's warmth.

Life had been born and the whole home could feel it, and he now knew what he had to do to save more lives tonight. Silently thanking her for the hope she had given him and the power to use, he let the feeling of life from his sister flow through him and managed to suck the poison out of the body as one would draw water through a reed.

At that moment, when the elf had suddenly gone from death to life beneath the healing hands of Elladan, Elrohir emerged shakily from behind the curtain and the call rang out.

"Ai! A miracle has come!"

Others came stumbling through the doors of the ward and stared in dumb amazement as the call was made true before their eyes. And it reached further out, spreading through the Home like a fire and coming to the ears of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian, letting them feel peace and happiness for the first time in many hours as they held their new baby daughter in their arms.

And further out it reached, much further, beyond the borders and over the mountains, reaching the ears of a young elven king in a green wood. Then touching upon the minds of those dwelling in a golden wood before stretching out even further and further until the call finally breached a space unknown to all those walking the mortal world and touched an old mind.

His eyes opened in surprise and he stared around him in wonder. He knew he was merely a boy and had been sitting upon the back of his beast all this time, but he also knew that something was not quite right and that for a moment he had been somewhere else. He knew that, for that one moment, he had touched into his ancient soul and had found something that had disturbed him greatly.

Something was not right, and he was concerned. He steered the six-legged animal beneath him to turn about and return to the Air Temple with troubled thoughts. He had felt such waterbending as should be near impossible.

One could not _possibly_ bend water where there simply was none. And he was sure the cloudless sky certainly did not hold any at the moment he had felt it's pull on his soul. Flying high above the ground, Avater Roku simply did not see the sky ripple behind him before seeming to stretch back into shape.

And somewhere else oh so far away, a young human girl watched her world crumble around her and her brother die before her eyes. Yet somehow, deep within her heart and past the grief as she watched the monitors beep out their long tone of death, she felt that though there was life elsewhere that she was destined to meet. Something that would change her own life forever.

And the cry of Life was strong but no one yet could see the connection.

_**TBC...**_

* * *

**Review responses**

_Eric-Jan_: Heh, my first 'outside of fanfic' friend reviewing one of my stories straight from a pimp on LJ. You got it right about the dots btw, I will need to go back and change it unless I have already done so and have merely forgotten. And as for character description? It was intentional. There are many moments like this that I simply will not explain until later in the piece. It is all figured out in my notes for now and hopefully your confusion may lessen as time goes on. That or get bigger. Heh. Thanks for the review though, helped a lot.

_B-Elanna_: Though we MET through fanfic, you're still a great friend to keep an eye on my stories like this. Reading Two Strangers isn't an obligation though as it's becoming a little too painful to write as a lot that I put into it has actually happened, like the real Avon learning Dutch and all. It's freaking me out. Especially since it happened AFTER I wrote it. In any case I am glad you like and just give me a call when you want to know where I found all episodes of Avatar online for reference. It really helps with this story. And after this chapter, things WILL start moving along.

And thanks to all my readers, I can see you DID have a read due to my story Hit Count. Reviews are still HIGHLY appreciated for whatever reason you may have to leave one. Just please no brainless flaming, that does leave the words 'critical review' having a bad taste in your mouth. I have had flames before, they don't harm me, but I figure them to be a waste of the flamer's energy and mine for that matter, where they simply could have used the same amount of effort to explain where I might be able to improve. Also, more reviews means quicker chapters as they REALLY inspire me to write more. And oh yes, I don't suppose you noticed my intentional Biblical way of writing some parts of the story. if you did, don't worry. It's very much intentional and the repetitive nature of it is actually reminiscent of some of Tolkiens verses, just a little homage to the great man himself.

Be well all!!


	3. Discoveries, Pain, Hope and a Bird

**AN:** A lot has been happening over the past couple of months (hence the REALLY long chapter to make up for it). I broke up with my long term boyfriend and am now preparing to move out (we are still friends though so that is a good thing). Job life is hazy and I am STILL waiting to begin a job that could mean I eat next month or not. A lot of stressing and organising has been going into the LARP scene and I managed to pull of my first main event as an Organiser, but then the internet went poof and only NOW just got it back. Had a large fair (Elf Fantasy Fair) where I was an entertainer that wiped me out and I'm still trying to get rid of the green makeup that was all over my body for the whole weekend. And then my cat, my sweet Smokey died four days ago Sunday while I was at said fair so that has been a huge blow to the system. Am a cat lover to the max, and she was also my last connection to my old life, so this chapter is devoted to her. Smokey, the sweetest Empath cat there ever was. Review responses at the bottom.

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Tolkien and Avatar. And any extra bits that look familiar, that don't belong to me either. I just meddle.

**Chapter Warnings:** None...unless you want to be prepared for a lot of new character intros.

**Chapter Summery:** Information can be a blessing and also a difficult thing when it changes your entire perception of the world as a whole. Call this an information overload that also raises more questions, and finally the beginning of the great adventure.

* * *

_**Discoveries, Pain, Hope and a Bird**_

Lord Elrond pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and stared over it at the small motley group assembled in his study. It hadn't been a usual occurrence to see more than one or two species in his home since the Last Alliance, but here they were, and they were all angry.

"You beat off them orcs right into our lands. They raze our crops long before we can get at them!" raged one human, one of three spokespersons sent by a small group of farming communities down south past the Ford of Bruinen.

"Yes and then when they send them off, it's us who gotta deal with them next!" Raged a dwarf, one of about 5 delegates standing within the room. They were the dwarves of the Western woods. Those dwarves dug themselves into the small cliff-sides and had found some good veins of gold that had made trade with their fellow clans in Moria a very lucrative business.

But it also made them fussy neighbours and Elrond had been growing increasingly weary over the years of needing to deal with such incidences that could have been avoided by simple trust. Unfortunately, since the attacks had become more numerous, this couldn't be so.

"The main factor of the matter is," Elrond began, slowly and carefully picking his words so as to not offend or patronise "that the orcs are coming from over the Mountains. The High Pass in fact and the unfortunate facts are as so. Rivendell will always become their first target, then whoever lays beyond will become their secondary attack...and third. We do not 'drive' them as you say. They have somehow gained a sort of unity as their numbers peak, and yet they also seem so chaotic."

He let his guard down for a moment and showed through his face how much stress he was under, eyebrows creased and mouth tight. This seemed to satiate the humans' building negativity on what he was saying. Sometimes it was best to show that even elves had a touch of mortality about them, it made them seem less like 'haughty and proud' and closer to 'humble and sure'.

But the dwarves were not so moved and one at the back muttered something under his breath that made his leader go a bit red in the face, though nothing else was said as Elrond continued.

"It is not a final explanation," he said, noticing the building tension in the room "and nor will it be left as it is. We _will_ find a solution and for that, we need to work together on the matter. The elves cannot fight them all back, and we do not feel proud of ourselves when we hear of your homes being attacked too. If you come here blaming us for what those monsters are doing to your homes and families," his voice rose and he let a bit of his noble self shine through "then you might have found less than civil welcome here, for we _should_ be like those orcs and be able to move their strings like the puppets they are."

He had stood up during the emphatic speech and now leaned over the table, hands splayed on the hard dark wood and tension making his knuckles white. The rest of the room had already taken a step backwards and were now watching him silently, like a wild cat about to spring.

"Did you get such courtesy upon your arrival? Did we look like we were purposefully sending that filth into your lands?" There were a few mutters of the negative as feet shuffled and Elrond nodded his head, settling back down into his chair. "Then do understand why this must stop now. We must unite and drive these creatures back over the mountains and even further if need be. That scum belongs in Mordor, and in a perfect world they would not exist at all. It is under their own duration that they go to your farms and homes, not from where we drive them. In fact I could swear that we kill a large portion that come our way, so the hoards attacking you are most likely the ones who simply couldn't find our Valley and moved onto other areas. Do you not agree?"

"Here here!" one of the men called out and the rest nodded in agreement. The dwarves were less cooperative, but also less surly than when they had first walked in and Elrond found an accord that they could all agree on.

The facts were laid down, an approach was discussed, and not too soon were the dwarves and humans gone from his study and he dropped his façade to becoming his normal self. Which was quite worried in a permanent way and consistently showed his mind working behind those grey eyes.

A pair of dark eyes peered around the door, watching the lord closely with a critical gaze before the person glided in and placed a heavy hand on the elf's shoulder. Elrond started, lifting his head from the desk and blinked up at the intruder before his face broke into a small smile and he sighed.

"I didn't hear you come in, old friend."

The other elf raised an eyebrow and gave the shoulder a squeeze before he moved around to the front of the desk and lowered himself gracefully onto a high-backed cushioned chair.

"And that is because you are distracted, yet again Elrond."

Said elf sighed again and tidied up the desk from parchment and notices left behind by the rather consistent visitors to his Home and office. The study itself had been originally intended to be a place of rest and contemplation. Nowadays it was becoming a social gathering point, a problem he was in dire need to solve.

"Glorfindel, I do realize you are trying to care for my wellbeing, but what is it really you came here for?" Elrond was tired and simply wished for the low bell to be rung out announcing that the evening meal was complete and awaiting the main household to attend.

The other elf did not reply and Elrond finally looked up from his perusing of the various documents still literring the desk and noticed Glorfindel eyeing him silently with a hard calculative stare. It was this that finally stopped him from fidgeting and he clasped his hands tightly on the desktop. "Forgive me for my impatient behaviour. The last few days have been...trying, to say the least."

Glorfindel watched the barriers lifting up from around the Lord and saw exactly how much stress he was under. And it was not only the attacks of orcs ravaging the lands around, but also re-entering the realm of fatherhood to a newborn daughter, the near loss of both sons and also the recent loss of secrecy surrounding the Gifted of Rivendell. It was the latter that the golden-haired elf wished to speak to him about and he did so now without delay.

"The following is concerning Hirgon and his own Gift." he didn't lean forward or change his posture in any way, his noble and ancient stance always showing even when within relaxed company. "We have heard word of others with the same abilities, but" he paused, letting the following new information seep in harder "they all hail from the Greenwood. And they have never held this secret from each other, only from anyone outside their realm."

He took a breath, allowing Elrond the time to soak this all in. Then when the Lord nodded his head to continue, he did so. And extensively.

"And there is more information hailing from the Grey Havens, where it has been rumoured that those ships that depart those docks to go in whatever direction with a designated elf to guide them on board, will always have wind behind them and a good steady sea. Almost unnaturally steady." Again a pause, and this time the new information was visibly adding more thoughts and ideas into the already full and stressed dark head. "And there are humans of Arnor and even the distant lands of Harad and Rhun that bring stories on the wind of witches who can shoot fire from their fingers and, when provoked, can cause death, panic and confusion in an instant as the earth shakes beneath them or the waves crash harder upon the shores." he looked saddened for a moment. "These ones are often tried and sent to burn or be drowned, depending on what they can do, their punishment can be the opposite. The scouts report from Harad that even small children have been 'caught' with the Gift and were killed without ceremony. There is one scout who may not recover from what he has seen, you will meet him in the Hall and will know what I mean when you look into his eyes. These stories are real and it is now finally known that Hirgon's nurse was not the only other Gift Wielder of Stone, may her fea be in peace, and that we have not been the only one keeping secrets."

There was silence in the room for a moment before Elrond spoke, low and slowly.

"And you received this information how again?"

"From the scouts we sent out several months ago." Glorfindel said, tilting his head to one side. "It is now obvious of how much you need to be reminded of. These scouts were sent after that vision you had, when you came to realize there were other elements in the world that must be monitored if only to understand what is happening to us. Also you were supposed to be meeting with the Gift Wielders on that afternoon of the battle, but the obvious stress and distractions you have had are casting solid reasoning on why you have delayed this for near a week now."

"A week already?" Elrond exclaimed. "Time has not been friendly to us as of late."

"It never has been." Glorfindel said.

Elrond merely nodded and fell into deep thought. The elder elf was silent, knowing that a little more time was needed for the other to collect himself and prepare for the next step.

The golden haired elven Lord, though still youthful of face, had seen more of history than many of even the elven kind could understand. But he had also missed so much and it was through their partnership, Elrond and himself, that both had helped each other dramatically over the years since he had been sent back by the Valar after so many centuries being away. At first his new presence in the Valley had made many reverent and quite uncomfortable to talk to him in a friendly manner. They had treated him almost godlike and had avoided much familiarity with him until the Great War with Sauron had come upon them and it was a sudden shock to many that he could also bleed.

Even then, his legend as being the Balrog Slayer never quite left him, but at least the worship had died down to mild awe and he had been able to make a few friends finally. Elrond inclusive.

Finally said elf broke his silence and spoke clearly.

"Call in the Gifted for a meeting one hour after dinner, but track down Hirgon to come in sooner for I must speak with him in private first."

On cue the low bell tolled out throughout the building, heralding that dinner was served. Glorfindel smiled at Elrond and nodded before standing up, his robes floating slightly on unfelt breeze. Though the elder truly was not aware of it, Elrond and others saw that his fea showed clearer than any other through his return from Valinor and rebirth from death. This attribute had indeed caused many to treat him higher than he felt, but it was mainly the visual fault and memory of his greatness. Glorfindel had remained blissfully, though irritatingly oblivious of this. Elrond had often pondered telling him outright, but didn't know if he felt that cruel, yet.

------

Hirgon paced impatiently before the door to Lord Elrond's study.

He knew he was early, evening meal was not even finished yet but he could not wait in the warrior's eating quarters any longer. The time between the personal correspondence with the Lord Glorfindel himself and now had been filled with hope and fear that the hope would be cruelly dashed and that he would now finally know he was truly alone. It had not allowed for much else and had curbed his appetite. He also wondered if it had something to do with the last meeting that had been cancelled due to circumstance. All in all, he was rather preoccupied and did not notice someone approaching before he nearly bumped into him on the end turn of another paced lap.

Blinking up into the regal face, Hirgon took a step backwards and made a practiced bow.

"My Lord Elrond."

He then saluted with his right fist lightly beating his chest, before standing straight in attention and focussed his eyes at a point past the other elf's head, hands clasped tight in fists by his side.

Elrond smiled and put up his own hand.

"Be at ease, Little Lord. Come, we have much to discuss."

Hirgon's eyes flickered at the old pet name he had been given as a child from Elrond himself, yet had not heard for quite a time. But he followed the older elf anyway into the study and shut the door quietly behind him, allowing his Lord to get himself comfortable before offering to his guest.

Once Lord Elrond was seated, he nodded to the soldier who then went to the high backed chair in front of the desk. He then stood again to attention, which made Elrond's mouth tighten a little before he spoke.

"You may sit."

Hirgon did so, eyes still focussed offside and Elrond had to suppress a small grunt of displeasure. He did however manage to catch the eyes of the young Gift Wielder and gave him a hard stare.

"You needn't act so formal in the presence of a mentor. Has it been so long since our last meeting that you now see me only as your Lord and no longer your friend?"

Hirgon blinked again, seeming to have a momentary battle behind his dark eyes, before he finally relaxed and let his gaze become thoughtful.

"It has indeed been a long time, years in fact. The Guard has become my only focus and there is not much else to crowd my mind, until now that is." He tilted his head. "Why have you called me here, my Lord?" Straight to the point, blunt as ever when finally relaxed of his constant etiquette.

Elrond leaned forward. "We have found other stone Gift Wielders. The news hails from the realm of King Thranduil."

"The Greenwood." Hirgon whispered, hope and relief flooding his heart and bringing a rare true smile to his face. It dissapeared rapidly though and he frowned slightly. "My Lord. You do understand that it has been harder for me as of late to hide my...abilities. Since the news emerged of the 'Power the young twin Lords can Wield', everyone is now looking out closely for signs in others. I am only glad Glandur is currently not present to become a specimen, for his Gift of Water is the strongest." He looked worriedly at his Lord.

Elrond gave him a sad smile. "Glandur returned this morning from his scouting mission. He is not...well, and has denounced his name for favour of finding one more suited to his current disposition."

Hirgon could not hide his shock. "He denounced his own name? But, how could he feel dishonourable to all he has worked for his life?"

"Because of what he saw, but could not act upon." Elrond sighed and rubbed his forehead. "He is one of a few we sent out several months ago to retrieve information concerning you and the other Wielders. He now is Edhel. You may want to talk to him in private later, it would be best."

Hirgon nodded, the worry clearly not leaving his face.

"You do realize what this all means now though, we had discussed this."

Elrond nodded and held up his hand in appeasement. "You needn't stress the point any further, I understand. But I wish not to discuss it till after the meeting with all of you being present. There is more to the story and we have not yet reached the end."

-----

"This is a good thing, yes?"

"Of course it isn't! Can you not see? We now know of at least two other kinds of Gift, but not know the consequences. We could now be at risk!"

"And from what, may I ask?" Queried a third speaker.

"From what, he asks?" The second almost scoffed. "Of the Edain of course, especially the ones hailing from Harad and..."

"Oh shush can you never learn to hold your tongue!"

The room was crammed with the fourteen Gifted of Rivendell, two guardians of the two youngest additions, Lords Elrond and Glorfindel and even Hirgon's father who had found reason to join them this evening.

In the far corner at the back though sat one of the Gifted, now nameless due to his self punishment in shame. His eyes, once blue and dancing with life were clouded and grey, the spark within now snuffed in despair. His skin was pale and waxy and there was a slight blue tinge around his mouth and shadows under his eyes that showed how unwell he was. But the most noticeable change was in his hair. When he had left, his long flowing locks were dark and full. Now the full head of hair had gone white overnight and he had lost so many strands in stress and from pulling at it, that it had become thinner and wispier, with the impression of always floating about his shoulders.

The others in the room noted the stiffness of his posture when the second speaker mentioned Harad, though he did not retort. Said speaker realized he would need to reign in his outbursts a little more if he were to be accepted as a mature member of the group.

"Forgive me. My mouth again ran ahead of my sense." The twenty year old, and second youngest of the Gifted bowed his head slightly at the white haired elf. But the other did not respond, merely continuing his examination of the intricately woven rug at his feet.

The youngest, an eleven year old genius of the Valley named Alagos, gave the unnamed elf a long stare and started folding his paper once more where he sat on the floor, letting the adults carry on with their meeting.

The news had been taken hard by some, as young Veassen had well demonstrated with his outburst. But for most, it led them to be thoughtful. And behind Hirgon's eyes, his mind was working faster than any other, excepting Alagos, in the room and it was something his father had learned to take note of in advance.

He leaned forward, taking advantage of the general chatter to speak softly with his son.

"I can hear you thinking, and it is quite loud. Are you sure you have not thought enough about your plans, my son?"

"Sire, it has been in my heart for years uncounted." Hirgon whispered back. "And now, even with it becoming so big. It is still a joy and hope that cannot be removed, even by danger."

"Do you wish to say something, Hirgon?" Came the deep rich voice of their Lord over the now silent room.

All eyes were on him, especially piercing were the eyes of the twin Lords. Their close brush with death had left its mark upon them, and they seemed to scrutinize everything they encountered from then on. Now he was their bug, and he did not care.

"I am announcing my request to leave the Valley." He stood up, ignoring the intake of breath surrounding him at his statement. "To seek out my fellows in The Greenwood and mayhap even further. To find answers to new questions and to also seek out the old."

Elrond spoke. "And for how long do you feel you shall be absent?"

"I cannot feel free to give myself a timeline, My Lord, but it will be many months. Perhaps years." he stood up even straighter, eyes glued to a point on the wall behind Elrond's head.

The room chattered and some complained, some agreed and some stayed silent. Those who said nothing were either staring at the rug or at Hirgon and it was those four pairs of eyes that were making him the most nervous.

His father simply sat there, watching his son closely and thoughtfully. He knew that this had been a wish of Hirgon's since he was very young, but there had been no direction and no news of anything outside their realm. And now the opportunity had struck, the young elf was grasping it with all the fibre in his being. He could do as much in stopping Hirgon as he would in stopping an avalanche, both of which could be frighteningly similar.

Alagos and Edhel were giving him calculating stares, with the younger still folding his paper without bothering to check what his fingers were doing and the white haired elf simply staring with barely any expression before flicking his eyes back to the rug.

It was Mirima that gave him most comfort after the initial feeling of being dissected had passed. She put her long slender hand into his and clasped it tight, giving him comfort where he needed it most. He looked into her grey-green eyes framed by thick dark blond locks that fell down her back to curl round her waist and gave her a small smile. To say he was infatuated would have been an understatement. They had been courting for some years now but neither had been willing to take the next step, mainly due to the growing chance that he would need to go on this pilgrimage and that their marriage could wait a little longer.

Once he returned, they would be wed and he would most likely want to settle down to raise a family with her. He would make sure of it, at least when he got back.

The 'IF' never crossed his mind.

A commotion that had been reaching a peak by Lord Elrond's desk finally died down and two people, none too carefully, pushed their way to Hirgon's side. Elrohir's face was one of steely determination and Elladan managed to give the Rock Wielder a pat on the shoulder before Elrond made his announcement.

"Our young Gift Holders Hirgon, Elladan and Elrohir," one could see his displeasure at mentioning his sons "are to go forth on a venture to seek out more answers to our questions. And perhaps bring back new news that would benefit us greatly." He pursed his mouth and sat down once more, letting the chaos of the room reinstate itself while he pondered on what he had been talked into.

"But why come with me?" Hirgon was shocked to say the least. Elrohir merely sniffed.

"Because you have never been outside the area round Imladris and would need extra help along your road."

"But I was already taking someone. Morcion." he added, seeing their confused stares.

"Morcion? But he's not Gifted." said Elladan, tilting his head.

"Not with what we have." Hirgon smiled softly and squeezed Mirima's hand. She smiled back and he continued. "But he can hold back more wave attacks than you or I and always will watch my back. You're on your horses most of the time, you have never seen him being my third arm."

The twin Lords looked trite for all of a moment before they simply rebuffed him. Elrohir sniffed again and put on a pompous, bored expression.

"Then we shall simply have to deal with him and his unruly fuzz. Four fellow elves entering the world of adventure..."

"Make that five."

"Father!"

"But sir...!"

The exclamations of shock and surprise were waved off by the older elf and he bade them to be silent. The rest of the room babbled on, either too involved with themselves or purposefully ignoring them to allow a semblance of privacy.

"Now there is no need to even trying to talk me out of this for I had decided a long time ago. I will not coddle you," he gave Hirgon a pointed stare and the other elf relaxed with the knowledge "nor will I act like the older mentor unless circumstances lead to it. But I do know first hand of the risks you face and it would do my heart better to be out there with you, then to be simply existing here and waiting. There are already too many going to be waiting." he tilted his head at Mirima and she blushed prettily, ducking her head to lean it against the strong shoulder of her future betrothed.

"Erestor, it is decided then?" Lord Elrond had called over the others to get their attention. It also garnered the attention of everyone else in the room and Hirgon's father sighed, nodding his head and smiling.

"It is. If you would give us a month we should be out of your hair. Though regular correspondence will be a main forefront in my mind, something I foresee Hirgon may forget on too many occasions."

Elrond nodded and Hirgon bristled at the slight from his father, but inwardly agreed upon the statement. He would never be able to follow his father within the Council mainly due to his avoidance of quill and parchment and simple love of the world outside. He needed earth under his feet, lest he felt aimless and drifting. Putting word to paper was a responsibility he had not been looking forward to on this quest, at least his father would be responsible for that.

"Ball!" Piped a voice low to the ground and everyone turned to where Alagos was seated, now close to Edhels knee.

He held a bit of paper in his hand that was folded intricately, but nothing more. The white-haired elf stared at him blankly before the young elfling grinned, bringing a corner of the paper construction to his mouth and giving a hard puff of air from between pursed lips. The folded piece of art ballooned into a paper sphere about the size of two fists, and he handed it gently to a now stunned Nameless One.

"Need to be gentle with it." he left it in the open palms of the older elf's hands and went back to folding some more. "Not everything is certain at first glance." he muttered under his breath while concentrating.

Everyone, aside from the two who were now conversing on a level beyond them, looked at each other with raised brows. A new friendship was made that day and no one could doubt that it would last for eternity.

-----

Morcion was impatient and fiddled with his bracers while waiting in the main courtyard. He knew he was being irrational, but he really wished the Gifted wouldn't feel the need to take their morning ritual _every_ morning. Their desire to measure their abilities with the Gift was practised every dawn before the days activities began, unless a battle interrupted it, and they could be found sitting in deep meditation by secret pools with Edhel's Crown circling above their heads. In water _or_ stone.

Frowning, he wondered why it had been named that in the first place. Having witnessed it several times over the years, it was, to him, a result of the meditative process. Not once had he ever seen it in use outside of those morning rituals. Right now though, he wished to get moving to get as much distance from Rivendell as possible before sunset where he knew of some good sleeping places that were approachable within that time. If they left too late though, they would have to travel in the darkness to reach it. Darkness was the Orc's realm and he knew the consequences well of being caught in the open with so few companions.

Unbeknownst to him, Erestor was walking up the pathway behind him, picking off stray feathers from his hair and tunic and holding a quite impressive hawk on his arm. The bird needed no blinders, nor twine to catch round his leg. He was both tame and wild as were all creatures kept by elves and was never considered to be a pet, nor under ownership. Elves treated beasts more than well for their devotion, and in turn the animals themselves came into a deep seated trust and were more willing to be trained to carry or fetch for those who fed and loved them.

The birds of Imladris were all trained differently. Some were for hunting, others for message correspondence and a select few were Seekers; birds of prey with eyes sharper than any elf, scanning the lands below it's high flight and searching for those lost or friendly folk trying to find their valley. They were like bloodhounds, pointing the way and extremely intelligent by being able to understand up to twenty requests and carrying them out flawlessly.

This particular hawk was a young one, the quest being his first true duty with the elves. And he had an attitude which would attest to the amount of damage his momentary panic of being removed from his comfy roost that had been done to Erestor. The elf had forgiven him though, and now the black-eyed hawk was sitting a bit shamefully and quietly with his head tucked down and eyes half shut.

"Bit jumpy this morning are we, Morcion?"

"Don't _do_ that!" Morcion gasped, holding a hand to his chest while staring at the other elf in shock and annoyance.

Erestor shrugged and smile. "It is not my fault you are distracted, my friend." he stroked the speckled neck of the bird and it squeaked out an approval. "They should only be a few more minutes in any case, do not worry. There is one I know for sure that will not delay this journey any longer."

The bearded elf sniffed and frowned. "I for one definitely cannot wait to be far from those dwarves. How long have they been here again? Over a month? A day has not gone past where I haven't had to look down to make sure I am not stepping on someone when I turn a corner. My back is forming a permanent hunch and their obsession for talks of mining and beer, my ears ring of it. For once, there shall be peace and no dwarves."

The hawk squeaked and someone coughed from behind him. Morcion narrowed his eyes at the quirked smile on Erestor's face and he turned around, then looked down.

Leaning on his axe, the black-haired dwarf glared up at him and grunted.

"So we gots ourselves here a dwarf hater."  
"Oh no it's not like that at all." Erestor laughed, deliberately not answering the other elf's questioning gaze at the dwarf being able to understand them. "He just prefers fine wines and dancing in the moonlight" he ignored the cry of objection from Morcion and shot him a look to stay his tongue "to your honoured mining skills and frothing malt beer. Which I must add is a fine delicacy, you will need to oblige me and maybe offer the recipe sometime?" he bowed his head to the dwarf while keeping eye contact.

Two dark green eyes squinted back from between bushy eyebrows and equally bushy beard before a light chuckle escaped his mouth and he slapped his knee jovially.

"Well done there old Erestor! We'll keep them on their toes yet if you and I show our comradery amongst them on this journey."

Erestor, in turn, laughed and Morcion looked between them in confusion.

"I am missing something here now aren't I."

"Yes." Erestor said, smiling. "Des is coming on our journey with us."

There was a moment of silence before the bearded elf managed to utter a startled choke.

"He is _what!_?"

"Indeed, I feel this may need a bit of a demonstration. Master Erestor, if you could?" Des held up his hand as though to fend the two elves away and Erestor complied, pulling Morcion with him till they were a good few feet away.

It was then, without too much ceremony, that the ground beneath the dwarf's feet suddenly rose up and set the stout creature a good five heads above the elves atop a small plateau. He sat there crosslegged for a moment before the ground slowly lowered and he was standing once more on level ground. He tilted his head at Morcion's look of wonder.

"Oh." said the elf and both Erestor and Des laughed.

The hawk squeaked and ruffled his feathers, sensing the excitement. It was at that moment that the Gifted decided to speak up, having witnessed enough in the last few minutes from behind dense foliage to entice their curiosity. Hirgon took the lead.

"It is a pleasure to meet one such as yourself master dwarf." he said, stepping forward and bowing his head.

Des grinned and did the same and it was obvious both were hiding their excitement at meeting another like himself. Nodding politely at the twins standing on either side of the elf, Des then focussed his attention on the bearded one who was still looking like a stunned mullet.

"I do not see why you are so shocked Morcion." said Elrohir.

"It has already been established that other races can wield this Gift. Why not a dwarf?" Elladan added, flinching as the hawk squeaked a particularly high tone.

They both gave Morcion a hard stare and the other elf sighed and nodded his acquiescence to the situation. He and Erestor were the only ones on the outside of the reason for this whole quest and for that he was getting the growing feeling of alienation. It was now that he was finally coming to realize what Hirgon had been living with his whole life since his Nanny and mother had both been wrenched away by fates unnameable. His father had had a mental breakdown and suffered such extreme memory loss that he barely even remembered the face of his afore-mentioned wife, and yet he still managed to live a complete normal life from thereon. It was these factors that had led to Hirgon's straight-backed attitude and steely determination, along with his consistent isolation and inability to form a proper father/son relationship with Erestor. Morcion had been a friend of the family for years before and these events had pained him deeply. It was those reasons why he had begun his friendship with the young elf in the first place, and now they were nigh inseparable. At least until now. Now he was unsure how close they would remain with the new future coming upon them so fast that it was doubtful Hirgon would remain in the Valley or even return again if he left to find his place in the world.

The hawk squeaked again, interrupting his thoughts and Morcion gave a cry of annoyance.

"Cannot that bird ever make a proper sound?"

"No, actually. He had an injury while young and now his voice is less than...normal." Erestor smiled and stroked it's neck, the squeaking becoming more like a croon and yet still carrying a pitch that rattled slightly. "I would like everyone to meet Pipo, our messenger hawk for the duration of this quest."

The bird, noticing it was the center of attention for the moment puffed himself up and started to preen. It was this show of nonchalance that broke the remaining tension over the group and they laughed softly as they made their way to the stables where their horses would be waiting for them. With the general acceptance of the dwarf being a part of the group, it was agreed he would ride with Hirgon and both found this to be a perfect arrangement. Of course, the elves and dwarves had very little reason to hold onto grudges from era's long past and nothing had happened recently to reinforce any negativity.

No one noticed the eyes peering out though the latticework of a nearby out-building, watching them as they began a quest that would take many years and would eventually also claim lives. And no one in that world heard the screams of grief and terror as another world began spiralling down into an oblivion that could only be cured by one. And he was not there yet...not yet.

TBC...

* * *

The revealing of certain names now was for a reason. I shall explain. Basically for those fanfic veterans, some characters tend to make continuous comebacks and generally you form a certain opinion of them before you even have read a description of them from someone else's story. Hence me not saying certain names until later in the piece so as to allow the reader to garner a different perspective or at least gain something else from the description I have set down. If people don't agree with this, then that is ok. I take criticism well but not when it's telling me what to do when my own format. There IS a reason for all this slow unravelling and I am hoping that this chapter has given a taste as to what to expect in the future.

**Review Responses:**

_B'Lanna_: Again you keep up with my stories. Heh, it really does make me feel good to hear reviews coming from you. So thanks a LOAD for this. And just for a hint, I tend to come back to a lot of things I write in previous chapters, so the candle thing just may make a comeback or something. As for the girl and boy, just think closely about what kind of crossover this is. Heh.

_Erik-Jan_: I really do need to figure out if I have read any of R.A. Salvatore's works. It sounds familiar, but I am not sure. But as for the orc poison and thumbs up, niiiiice reviewing there. It had prompted me to extend some notes I had made on the subject, so now we shall see where it goes shall we? Thankye!

----

And thanks to all my readers, I can see you DID have a read due to my story Hit Count. Reviews are still HIGHLY appreciated for whatever reason you may have to leave one. Just please no brainless flaming, that does leave the words 'critical review' having a bad taste in your mouth. I have had flames before, they don't harm me, but I figure them to be a waste of the flamer's energy and mine for that matter, where they simply could have used the same amount of effort to explain where I might be able to improve. Also, more reviews means quicker chapters as they REALLY inspire me to write more.

Be well all!!


	4. And the World Went Black

**AN:** And indeed, life is changing hard right now. My uncle died, a close family friend died, I practically escaped from my old house last Friday and have even found a new boyfriend. He's possibly the most compatible person I have ever met, but we are taking it real slow. And yet...man.

In any case, I am now living with friends and won't be able to write as much as I would have liked. Hence this chapter being shorter than I intended. But I ended it where it was simply coz it worked. My first cliffhanger, and the next chapter is work in progress now so we shall see...ey?

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Tolkien and Avatar. And any extra bits that look familiar, that don't belong to me either. I just meddle.

**Chapter Warnings:** Some horror and gore. Not as bad as it COULD be, but still, some people need to be warned.

**Chapter Summery:** One wrong step can cause a lifetime of difference.

* * *

_**And the World Went Black**_

_My Lord Elrond._

_We have managed to get through the most of the High Pass but have encountered obstacles already. After such a smooth journey so far with hardly any confrontations, at least since the storm that brought about a tree nearly falling on us, we are having doubts as to what to do next. Hirgon has assumed leadership of the group since I feel he is growing more capable of it. This is a good test for him, but alas it seems now he feels he must turn to me for guidance and I am afraid I cannot give him any._

_The avalanche has blocked our route to the east and we are glad to have not only one, but two stone wielders amongst us. Des and Hirgon managed between them to create a cave out of the mountainside and we have found a natural tunnel system running off behind it. How they knew it was there I will never understand._

_The main problem now is to convince the horses to go through with us. Pipo will find us again once we reach the Greenwood, but I will have to say this will be our last correspondence until then. By my judgement it will take us at least another fortnight to reach even the edge of the Greenwood due to this large deviation. We do not know how far north the tunnels run, but the two who know most about the stone have assured the rest of us that simply by the slope they are running at now will force them to deviate and run down to the feet of the mountains eventually. We simply have to plod along and see._

_Sincerely Erestor_

-----

"I miss the sky." Muttered one of the twins at the back of the line. It was unsure which one said it, but the rest of the group aside from Des and Hirgon were in high agreement with him.

It had been a day, maybe more and maybe less since they had entered the tunnels, leaving their horses to find their way home and they were all growing weary of the closeness of the rock walls and the feeling of oppressive heaviness from the mountain above their heads. It was also very dark apart from the slight glow coming from their elven skins. Des had no problem though and was trotting along happily in front with his hands trailing along the walls, checking for chinks and hidden pathways.

They had been going steadily downwards, a smooth path at their feet with a small stream running down the middle from the melting snows above and had soon discovered that not all the tunnels were natural. Some were very much hand carved and it was this discovery that had put them all on edge to begin with and occasionally there would be a muffled curse as someone bumped their head on a low ceiling or random stalactites still dripping with stank water.

It was a moist, closed, dark and smelly environment and one that most of the elves wished to be out of as soon as possible, yet it was a growing knowledge that it may take days to reach open sky again.

"I wonder who made these?" Said Morcion, his hands feeling the walls become even smoother and the roof becoming slightly higher.

His unspoken hope for it to be dwarves was dashed by two simple words from Des.

"Not us."

It was then they all fell silent and did not speak another word.

Hours upon hours they trudged, stopping on occasion to rest and drink from the natural springs that were becoming more frequent as time grew on and they continued going deeper, reaching as though into the very heart of the mountain itself. By the third 'day', the elves were almost frantic and even Hirgon was feeling the unnerving traces of stress crawling up his spine.

He was so much more at home with the stone than he could possibly explain to the others, but that did not alleviate the longing for trees and sun that his elvish self was craving. No matter how he felt down here, the light of Arnor was the pull that reminded him consistently that he was still of the Eldar-born. He was so lost in his thoughts at one tragic point that he completely missed informing others of something that had not affected him and cried out his warning too late.

Morcion, who had been walking directly behind him, gave a short yell, so brief and shocked that in other circumstances it would have appeared humorous. But in this case, it was an unglorified end in darkness that saw the terror in his eyes for that brief moment before his head vanished down into the pit that Hirgon had so easily stepped over moments before.

There was no time to react, no time to think, and even when they did it was far too late. They all stared at the fissure running across their path in numb shock, their senses kicking into gear all at once when the elves leaned down over the gaping hole and called for their lost comrade.

"Morcion!" Hirgon was panicked. How could he have missed this? His heart blamed him for this and he could not disagree. "Morcion! Please..."

The only answer was the rattle of falling stones and the consistent throbbing silence of the caves. Eventually the others ceased their calls and Erestor sat on the ground heavily, arms resting on his knees. He looked confused and...lost. The others did not look much better and Hirgon again knew the blame was for himself.

It was Des that finally brought them out of the stupor with a low string of words that made no sense to the others, but it was instantly understood that it was a dwarfish prayer of sorts for the loss of one of their party. It petered off as Elrohir began to sing, his voice joined in cadence with his brother and soon Erestor. Only Hirgon remained silent during the mournful song that was occasionally broken by a hitched sob from his father.

They had been friends for a long time, the young rock wielder could only imagine. He would not accept it, he could not. He was an elf of action and not for acceptance of fate and it was with this thought that he abruptly stood up and broke through the song with his short sharp words.

"I am going after him." he said, allowing his father's grieved eyes to stare at him in growing realization before he jumped into the fissure himself, feeling hands grasp at his clothing but missing until all there was, was darkness and the tumbling.

He rolled and bounced off the edge of the steep walls, wincing as a jagged edge caught him on the thigh and left a burning pain that robbed him of his senses for a short time. After a few seconds of this freefall, he suddenly felt one side of the wall sliding more under him and soon was slipping down a scree-ridden slope. It was an environment he felt better about than free air and he let the Gift weave around him, forming a smoother path in front and allowing him the ability to slow down a bit as the slope became less steep and finally levelled out onto a relatively flat space before he caught his foot on an unseen dip and flipped over face first into a deep pool of water.

He came up spluttering, feeling the wetness encompass him throughout his entire body and realized that this was where all the water from above was going. Dribbling over ages through a small crack in the floor that eventually turned into the fissure above and finally coming to rest in this giant underground lake.

Getting his bearings, Hirgon tried to stand and gasped as his right leg gave way beneath him, sending him back into the pool. Not knowing what the damage was, he squinted and tried seeing the problem in the dim light of his own glow. Not able to distinguish anything in the gloom though, he remembered the pain coming from something tearing into him and he quickly tore a strip off the hem of his tunic. Tying it around the top of his thigh, he grimaced at the pain the makeshift tourniquet caused and moved with it, allowing the pain to sharpen his mind and senses to the point that he could start to see his surroundings clearer. He regretted it almost immediately as he came face to face with the tip of a crude spear, the other end being held by a leering goblin with a face that seem to be all rotten and ugly sharp teeth.

He didn't want to see the reason for the creature's smile, but he had to look. There, standing along the shoreline of the black lake were scores of the things, all looking like dinner had arrived after a famine. More likely than not, this was definitely the case and his swallowed his instincts to destroy them all with one powerful wave that would make the ground bury them in stone. For there, being held limp in the grasp of three of the creatures, was Morcion, his usually flowing hair hanging limp and wet over his face. But was he alive?

"You fool." was the answer to the question and the other elf raised his head, blinking dazedly at him through the blood coating his features in grotesque design. "You damnable fool."

The younger elf could only sigh as he was grabbed none too gently and removed of his weapons, bound and pulled to his feet. He gasped as the pain in his leg resurfaced and collapsed once more, the goblins letting him fall before a guttural voice called that froze his blood.

"We'll be feasting tonight!"

There was harsh laughter and chittering in response and suddenly they were moving, though not in the traditional sense. He was their meal, and he knew he could not do anything without seeing Morcion free first, so he let them as far as he dared to drag him along the jagged ground away from the lake. The goblins could not see it, but as he was pulled by the crude ropes digging round his wrists he made the surface bearable for his bruised body to pass without more serious injury. They gave him quite a few kicks and punches to his ribs and face before they had gotten too far and he regretted his distractions again, trying to see hope in the hopeless situation.

It was a final kick to his head that left stars dancing before his eyes and he finally felt them close on their own accord, darkness enveloping him as he once again wondered if he could have only done more. Just a little more.

"Fool." came the quiet voice, and he knew then why he couldn't.

-----

"I cannot believe..." was the only thing Erestor could say before he fell into silence again.

The others shook their heads in sadness and looked at each other hopelessly. For the last hour, those were the only words the older elf could say before he would drift back into the restless exhausted slumber that had overtaken him in his grief.

Des was truly uncomfortable with the situation and was slowly turning the handle of his axe with the head boring into the ground. If one didn't know that it was solid rock as a floor, they would think he was boring the weapon into sand. It was already halfway up the blade.

Elladan was pacing back and forth in front of the fissure, staring at it as though he could figure all it's secrets with his glare. In his lifetime he had only once before felt so helpless and it was when his brother was dying before his eyes and he was so ready to follow. Since then he knew that to overcome the pain that the event had left in his heart, he would need to become more focussed and sure of himself and it had been a trying few weeks since then that his mind was filled with knowledge from the books of his father and secrets from ancient tomes of elvish history. Did it all matter now? He did not know, but his mind still churned and sifted through what he knew.

And then he got it.

"If you would but give me a moment." he said clearly, though quietly and the others looked at him in surprise.

"What are you going to do?" asked Des gruffly, tilting his head and squinting in curiosity.

Elladan only smiled mysteriously. "Magic." he said, and took a few steps backwards, leaning down towards the small trickle of water leading towards the fissure.

"Brother?" Elrohir's face matched that of Des' but the other elf did not react.

Instead he closed his eyes and mind to the world around, touching the water lightly with his fingertips and brought forth that knowledge of his elven self to the forefront of his being.

------

It was darkness and fleeting visions, broiling in a nightmare of leering faces, growls and pain of such horror that he could not even bring himself to admit that he was truly awake. Instead he succumbed to his mind's wish of detachment and watched himself as though from afar as his body was thrown into the corner of a large cavern and Morcion was pulled into the center near a firepit.

He could only watch through slitted mind's eye as they beat him into unconsciousness before shoving a bottle to his lips and the horrid draught brought him back to life again. With much coughing and gagging, the bearded elf was once more beaten and kicked from one orc to the other, given the drink again and again to keep him alive and awake and then beaten some more before his body finally gave up and he did not wake again.

It was then and only then that the monsters felt like they had done enough sport and had dragged him back to Hirgon's side, leaving him slumped against the wall like a cut down puppet. They then finally left them alone for now, both elves near death and bleeding so much redness that it was impossible to determine how much was still left in their bodies.

Hirgon cracked open a swollen eye, the other being sealed shut by blood that was the result of a deep gash across his forehead where a steel toe had caught him. Most of his face had been spared apart from that and a bent nose, but the rest of his body was a mass of wounds, bruises and broken bones. He knew that he had some broken fingers on his left hand, and that his wrist was dislocated along with his shoulder and he figured a broken rib or two from when they had slammed him against the cavern wall repeatedly. It was only until he had gone completely limp that they had turned their attentions to Morcion, and how he regretted his body's weakness at that moment.

But what could they do? From the start they had been kept weak by the sickly drink that also somehow kept them awake and alive longer than should be considered normal. It had allowed them to feel every kick, every fist and every cut of a dagger that had sliced evilly through his clothing and skin.

Biting back a groan, he lifted his head up slightly from the ground, trying to squint at Morcion's apparently dead figure. His fingers twitch as he slowly reached out with his right arm, brushing the tattered tunic of his lifelong friend with a feather touch. It was enough to make the other stir, his senses heightened to a painful degree that made such a slight touch feel like someone had grabbed him.

"Hir...gon." he whispered hoarsely, tilting his head back so they were seeing eye to eye...in a way.

The gift wielder could barely make a sound, but smiled slightly in response, that being enough to satisfy the bearded elf enough for him to sigh and close his eyes in a weariness that would not be satiated.

"They...will not stop. Not till we are no more." His chest rattled with every breath and blood flecks stained his lips and teeth. Hirgon knew that his friend did not have much time left, and he would not be long in following.

Death itself did not frighten him, but this was a hopeless waste of a way to leave the world behind and meet his forefathers in the Halls. What brave deeds would Vairë weave into her tapestries from his short life? He would be no more than a single thread, woven into a pattern that could have meant so much more had he just been given the chance. And he feared also for his friend, how his reckless abandonment had let them fall into this desperate and deadly situation. The guilt gnawed at him and his heart grew heavy when Morcion said no more and fell deathly silent.

Was he dead? He couldn't tell, but it did not seem much longer before the monsters were back to continue their games.

But this time it was infinitely more different.

They dragged both elves by their hair into the middle of the cavern, throwing them down and binding them on slabs of bloodstained rock. It was the sight of bones littering the floor around these slabs that made Hirgon's heart grown cold. For they were not just bones of creatures or bits of meat eaten over time, but humanlike finger bones with crushed knuckles, a leg bone here and there with a man's still rotting severed head laying on what was left of it's ear.

This was a sacrificial area and had been used often during the orcs' residency. But even this realization could not conceal his horror at what followed and the screams ripped from his raw throat left testament in their echoes through the many caverns.

Ripping, tearing, tugging and flesh being seared away. He could not see what had been done, but the pain burning through his left hand was enough to strip him of all reason. They had sawed and cut with serrated knives and had removed his middle finger without much ceremony except that of a sickening popping sound when it finally came free. That his screams had merged with those of Morcion did not come to mind till he heard guttural laughs and those grotesque beings joked with their prizes.

"The hairy one squeals like a stuck pig!" the grating noise of continued laughter ricocheted around him.

But all he could feel was the pain. They were going to cut them apart, slowly, piece by piece until their fëa would finally leave what was left of their broken bodies. He wished he could leave now, but he wished more that Morcion would leave sooner.

The other's breath was short and noisy, the rattling telling them that his injuries were far more severe than either would care to admit.

"Aww, he's got such pretty eyes. They look delicious."

Hirgon's own eyes shot open in horror and he tried to crane his neck over to his friend, who had suddenly become silent and stiff. The sight did calm his heart somewhat. They may wrench screams from their bodies unwillingly, but never would these creatures remove their pride and honour of death. No matter how slow that death was to come.

But he could not allow this to happen. Not this, not now, not ever.

"Take mine!" he cried out, sealing his fate as the orcs turned him greedily.

He could feel their enjoyment of such a careless show of bravery and he steeled himself for what was about to come. For they had listened to his pleas and now had surrounded his head, blocking his last view of his closest friend.

It was the last thing he ever saw; a glimpse of Morcion staring at him with tired, pain-filled eyes that held no regret, and no blame. They gave him strength and held his memories within their sky-blue globes. He saw those eyes, then he glimpsed a flash of metal and the whole world turned red and the pain reached far into his mind and soul. So deep that he could not even scream until they were almost done. So far, that when the ground beneath them started to shake, he only fell deeper into himself until the world was void and the pain was all encompassing and life was suddenly no more and his chest stilled and his mind drifted away on soft red-tinted winds.

TBC...

-coughs- I say nothing. Am already feeling mildly guilty for subjecting my new boyfriend to this...but he promised to read it and leave a review. So...yeah. I write what i write, and this chapter was already planned to somehow end up like this, but some little additions just...crept their way in. I mean, I COULD have done worse, but that would mean I can't add on it for future climaxes.

Do remember the story summery...this does not have to revolve around one set of people. Oh it CAN, but time moves on. And I am a sick puppy when events call for it.

**Review Responses:**

_Calenlass Greenleaf_: Ah, a non-larp friend actually taking the wonderful time to leave a nice review and read my story. :) I thank you very very much.

_Erik-Jan_: See, critique...and you're english is NOT your native language. So I am very very impressed. I have taken your notes to heart and have corrected most that I felt were necessary on my main copy. Online though I am nice and lazy, but I will get to it eventually. Do not worry. :) And 'Yay Dwarves'? I couldn't agree with you more. This is indeed proving to be a wonderful writing challenge and I am almost feeling sad for doing such horrid things to my own characters...oh well, I can only hope you keep on reading it after this.

----

And thanks to all my readers, I can see you DID have a read due to my story Hit Count. Reviews are still HIGHLY appreciated for whatever reason you may have to leave one. Just please no brainless flaming, that does leave the words 'critical review' having a bad taste in your mouth. I have had flames before, they don't harm me, but I figure them to be a waste of the flamer's energy and mine for that matter, where they simply could have used the same amount of effort to explain where I might be able to improve. Also, more reviews means quicker chapters as they REALLY inspire me to write more.

Be well all!!

ps: Review? Please? -kinda begs- Thankye in advance!


	5. One Giant Mystery

**AN:** Finally life is coming together. Am living with my new bf in a town about half an hour from Amsterdam, got myself a job a while back, am FINALLY getting some money in and also my energy levels have sort of gone up again. This chapter took me forever to write mainly coz I got to the halfway point and my inspiration came screeeaaaming to a halt. MUCH apologies for the long wait and I hope I don't get speared for this.

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to Tolkien and Avatar. And any extra bits that look familiar, that don't belong to me either. I just meddle.

**Chapter Warnings:** Plenty, but if I reveal even one it will give it all away. Ok, maybe just a little. Some medical procedures on a minor scale and if you are bothering to read anything written by me, you should have expected it already.

**Chapter Summery:** Meeting the woodelves, and all therein.

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**One Giant Mystery**

Deep within dark forests, the treetops lit only by the light of the moon and heavy with the silence of night, any noise was stifled as though it were forbidden. As were the laws of night. Therein, three figures, one on the smaller side to the others, crept with focussed intent, eyes front and bows at the ready. Focussed upon their prey, they moved as ghosts, filmy pale hair drifting from under dark hoods that covered all but pale skin over jaws taunt with set joint desires for the hunt to end.

The cloaked shadows moved so silently, that the stag did not hear them nor sense them until it was beyond too late and his glassy unseeing eyes stared up at them as his spirit drifted away on their prayers of music and thanks for his sacrifice. He was a magnificent creature, and they would not treat him as anything less. For in a world where life could be as fleeting as a mayfly, yet as enduring as an ancient oak, all were to be treated as equal and as treasured as though they were as family to the ones who had taken it from it's physical bonds. All that were, except the grotesque creatures of darkness that owned no souls. That felt no mercy and never would treat life as holy. Morgoth's spawn were as hated as the fallen Valar himself, and were as feared as his successor who had reached them even in this remote part of the world.

Though nowadays the knowledge and memory of Sauron was drifting away on the winds in the minds of mortals, the elves still felt his taint keenly. In these dark woods, they were still trying to rebuild their lives after the death of their former king and his son so far had been striving to make the Greenwood a place worthy of his title.

The three figures in the far edges of the forest had no real conscious thought in the current moment about their history, or even as to what was happening back within the borders of their forest kingdom. Instead they were steadily at work making sure that the animal they had taken down would not be wasted in any way and would be easier to carry back home. The antlers would be used within their bows for reinforcement and strength, the fur for lining clothing and for use in cleaning weaponry. The flesh was obvious food with various organs to be used for their healing properties, like the liver, heart and kidneys. The carcass left over though was, at least this time, to be left to the forest to be a part of the renewal cycle of life as it was too much for a mere three elves to carry. Otherwise it would have been used for broth and the bones for more weaponry. The world of the true hunt left nothing to waste. It would be an insult to life if that happened.

They finished their work and lifted their evening meal upon the makeshift litter. Carried between two while the third scouted ahead, they steadily picked their way through the dense undergrowth towards the small path that would lead them home.

After a short while, the smaller one at the back of the litter spoke up.

"Do you not ever find this rather repetitive?"

"Hunting?" replied the other, looking back. His eyes were barely visible under his hood.

"Yes that," the first said "and also the days that never seem to end. Do you not wish for adventure? Excitement? Something just a little different?"

The figure at the front made a hidden smile, but spoke without amusement.

"I would have thought that a year in the wild would have helped you understand the meaning of adventure."

The smaller one looked slightly abashed, but did not let up upon his original complaint. Instead he rebounded upon it with renewed enthusiasm.

"I understand what you are saying, cousin. But it does not truly feel like the wild where we have been camping. We stay still within a day of home at all times and never ventured out from beneath the trees. Our hunts are only for food, we see no orcs that I have heard so much about and the only other folk I have seen are those few dwarves that ventured through here to the human lands of Arnor almost back when I first came out to your flet. Seven months ago!" His exasperation only doubled when there was a low chuckle coming from the side of them and the third figure hopped down from a low branch.

They stopped their forward march and the two older ones simply looked at each other, shaking their heads.

"There is still so much you need to learn." Said the third, placing his hand on the smaller one's shoulder. "Soon enough you will wish for this peace to be your only adventure. It is not a fine thing to worry about fighting, excitement and adventure when your only concern now is to better your current skills in the eyes of your peers and run rampant through your home like you always have."

"But that is childish." Was the petulant reply and the third laughed again.

"And yet you are still a child. Ah you do have much to learn. But come, time is fleeting and we must hurry our quarry back to the rest before they start complaining of empty bellies and calling out for your song. You will sing for them tonight will you not, young Greenleaf?"

The smaller and now obviously younger one of the trio nearly rolled his eyes, but caught himself in time and merely nodded.

The first then smiled, teeth showing within the dark folds of his hood and he picked up his end of the litter again, inviting the youngster to do the same with his. When they were on their way again, the third went ahead once more to scout, leaving the two to walk on in a comfortable silence.

It was not long before he was running back once more, calling out for them.

"Hurry, there are those who need our aid!"

"Who?" asked the young one, watching as the others gathered parts of the stag that were obvious healing aids.

"Elves, mainly. As for details you will soon find out. But till then guard the litter till we return with them. Though it may not seem to be a glorious duty, I need Arandur's knowledge in this area." He bustled with tearing strips of cloth from his spare clothing. "The healer they have is not equipped for something this dire," he seemed to be talking mainly to the second, now identified as Arandur who was already pouring water through the makeshift pouches that were holding the organs and flesh. "They are all weak with hunger and from something else I cannot garner…it was orcs." He added. Which drew a gasp from the young one.

"So close to here?"

"No." answered the other, giving him an intense look. "In the mountains, but they have travelled far with injured in their party and are on their last legs. They were caught in a landslide as well it seems but I did not stay to listen to their story for one is very close to death." The two finished their preparations and he gave the youngster another close look. "Let your eyes be sharp, Legolas. We do not wish to be going hungry tonight at all now with sickly being brought within the camp."

And then they were gone, leaving a still rather befuddled young elf to ponder over what was occurring at that moment. The situation was extremely serious, though indeed exciting and he felt as though, in some strange and twisted way, his prayers had been answered.

He settled down at the roots of a large tree with his back pressed up against it and his bow held loosely between his fingers. His quiver he had lain down already next to him so as to make himself more comfortable, but he was no less alert than if he were standing upright in stern surveillance. His family and friends of the family had taught him early to be aware of his surroundings at all times, even when peace was about him. He never truly appreciated their teachings, mainly due to them being repetitive and tedious though he learned nonetheless. But as time passed, he was rapidly becoming distracted and anxious as to where his cousin and their captain had gone, and his curiosity was being piqued.

Who were those from the mountains? Had they fought many orcs in their lives or were they merely unlucky travellers? Who were those who were injured, and who was dying? He asked these questions and more within his head as he waited and absent-mindedly played with fallen leaves by his side.

He did not notice the multiple red eyes coming down from above until it was too late.

------

"I am Captain Cilmion of the Forest Guard, and this is Arandur. He will help you." The elf answered their questions with a wave of his hand, motioning the healer to go to his work.

The people in the group looked warily at them but allowed access to the severely injured one laying on the forest floor. They had obviously been unable to pause long enough to make a litter for him and he had been carried by the others for most of the way.

One came forward, his hair dishevelled and face bruised with still healing scratches crisscrossing in morbid design. He placed his hand on Cilmion's shoulder and smiled.

"We were wondering if you would even return. You ran off without any intro…" he winced and put his other hand to his side, frowning in concentration. The captain steadied him and bade him to sit down which the other shook his head at, smiling painfully. "It is merely a cracked rib, already bound. My brother has nearly wasted himself caring for us. But he did his best." He nodded at another elf which made the captain raise a brow in interest at their similarities in appearance.

He then turned his attention back to the one in front of him.

"Then I have suspicions already of who you are, at least you and your brother." He did not explain himself. Instead he went to check on the rest of the small group and soon came to a sad and pitiful sight.

Sitting dolefully on the ground was an elf, shoulders hunched and wrapped in so many bandages it was hard to tell what part of him was not damaged. The most notable was one around his eyes, soaked through with dark dried blood to such an extent that it was visibly unsure as to what part of his face was injured the most. Next to him was a tired, equally bruised dwarf who seemed to be taking special interest in consistently talking to the elf in the elven tongue as though to keep him grounded. It was an unusual sight and Cilmion waited until the grizzly face turned to him before he came any closer.

"How is he doing?" he asked, kneeling down next to them.

"I am doing just fine thankyou very much." Came a rough voice and the bandaged head tilted in his direction, giving the captain an impression of irritation. "I am neither helpless, nor dying, and it would do you well not to treat me as though I was not here."

"Master Hirgon!" exclaimed the dwarf, his eyes wide. "He was only seeing to your welfare. He wishes to help us."

The injured elf grunted and turned his head aside. "I need no help."

"But…"

"I said _no_!" Hirgon nearly shouted and the captain stood up, backing away from the now arguing couple and turning to the brothers once more.

He sighed and shook his head. "I would ask of what happened to you, but we cannot spare much time anymore. Arandur, is he going to make it?"

The other elf looked up from his work and gave him an uncertain nod.

"He was suffering much infection and blood loss. It would do to use maggots to eat away the dead flesh but we have none on hand. He needs to be taken back to camp at least to be washed up, but then we must get him to the healers within the realm. There he would have a stronger chance to come away with...the ability to still use his hands." He grimaced and the captain nodded solemnly, looking around in the undergrowth then for things which could be made into a litter. He came across some beech saplings, saying small prayers as he hacked them down with his long knife. He then tore strips of stringy bark from other plants, started fashioning rope and soon constructed a frame which was then layered with much undergrowth tied together with more makeshift rope and bits of cloth. He then laid his cloak down and, with the help of Arandur, lifted the injured unconscious elf upon it. He took both of the handles at the front, as the litter was to drag him as comfortably as possible due to being carried off the ground would prove to be jolting and difficult.

"Go find Legolas and meet us back at the path. We must travel together but I doubt I can lug this back the way we came. I will find another route." He shook his head at the twin brothers when they stepped forward to help him. "No, you both need to walk unburdened. You are weary and will wear yourselves out faster than if I just did this for you." he started walking, dragging the litter with little resistance. "Also he weighs very little and I am still fresh. Go help your other companion as I fear the dwarf can only lead his feet but not his head. Our woods can be hazardous as the trees can be unforgiving to strangers."

They seemed hesitant, but soon turned to carry out his request. The one who looked the less tired of the two, and by that definition was the one who had greeted him at the beginning, turned back and stared deep into his eyes.

"Who are we to you?"

The captain smiled. "The twin sons of Elrond Peredhil, Lord and overseer of the House of Imladris." He started walking when he saw the answering nod of the other elf as he went to help a highly resistant Hirgon.

Twins were so rare that the announcement of any was heard across all elven realms, and the fact that one was a healer and all were Noldor had helped him remember of the last announcement called in Ages. The Lonesome half-elven twin had twin sons of his own and the likelihood that there were any others to stake this claim of blessing from the Valar was thin at the most.

Arandur in the meantime had started running back to where they had left the young warrior in training. His senses were on high alert for anything amiss in the memory of the situation he had just left and he did not like the conclusions he was arriving at. Surreal emotion lay over the company, as though they had all experienced something that would leave a mark, and such deep sorrow in those who would not express it openly was palpable. He was sure the Captain had also sensed the grief surrounding the one guarded by the dwarf; such unusual friendships were to be noted as well.

His eyes had also not missed something about the hands of the dwarf and elf. How, where they touched, the ground underneath seemed to bend downwards and dust collect around the fingers. As though the earth itself was trying to communicate with them.

He wished to share this news to his King as soon as possible, but was unsure how he would take it. He was unsure about a lot of things now really, especially how to explain how he had let his cousin go missing within the borders of their realm.

He had just come across where he had left the young prince, and saw with a start how vacant the area actually was. It was with growing alarm that he soon found a broken arrow laying discarded on the forest floor and he started looking around frantically, calling out the name of the young prince in harsh whispers.

"Legolas. Legolas where are you?"

He pushed brambles and low branches aside, peering up into the dark eaves of the trees with ill-contained unease and the original panic growing into a deep-seated fear. The boy could be anywhere. In a hole with his neck broken or dragged aside by the wild beasts that sometimes dared to creep closer to their realm. He could even, he thought with a spike of fright, be taken by the very same orcs that had attacked the strange group. Who knew? They had not stated exactly how far away they had been attacked and they may have been tracked.

"Arandur."

The elf turned sharply, his hand on the long knife hanging on his belt. There stood the young elf, looking at him with a lopsided smile and his hand holding a broken bow by his side. He stepped forward, holding up a hand in appeasement of the scolding he knew he would receive for his irresponsibility.

The older elf gritted his teeth.

"Legolas," he ground out. "If you ever wish to test the heart of your cousin yet again, you may find him less than willing to keep it beating steadily at your wishes and he might just kill you himself."

The other let out a silvery laugh and reached down for his end of the litter, placing the broken halves of his weapon on top.

"Have no fear, dear cousin. I would not do this to you again on purpose. But there was need for my bow," he became grave and waited as the other took up his end too. "I came across something new. Something I have only ever read about in my father's old tomes."

Arandur listened intently and with growing concern as they walked, the child beginning to quote words delivered to memory over years of curiosity and lessons.

"'_With many legs and many eyes, she wandered cross the land. Devouring child and mother alike and hunger all she knew, she followed in the footsteps of the hated Valar Banned. And loth to those who watched her eyes for she would see them dead, and from her bloated belly came the stench that all would dread_.'" He paused, then sighed. "I think I met one of Her brood, or at least something like that. It came from above me, and I fought it and chased it into the trees. There it finally died after five arrows into its head." He shuddered and fell silent, leaving Arandur to his thoughts.

Ungoliant. It was all he could think of. The giant arachnid that followed in Morgoth's steps so long ago. Her children had been rumoured to have survived in the dark places of the world, venturing out only to steal the unlucky lost traveller. But these were stories used to scare the younger of the Elven people in their cribs. No more than tales. Yet if what the young prince was saying was true, it seemed as though a lot of fiction was becoming fact this day and it would not surprise him to find swarms of the grossly enlarged spiders of myth and legend over the next rise.

But they did not appear. Nor over the next, or round any corner or in any shallow gully they came across during their trek back to camp. His thoughts were lagging back on the conversations with the strange group once more, almost as much as Legolas was lagging behind him, pulling on the litter so it jolted his arms in their sockets and made his teeth clench in consternation.

"If you would, young one," he muttered out through clenched teeth "please keep up step or it will be midnight before we finally eat."

"I am sorry, Arandur." Came the quiet voice behind him. "I am just tired. The spider led me on a merry chase through tree and bush." He sighed and picked up his pace a little, but the older elf could feel it was forced.

"Never mind," he said with a tight smile. "We shall slow down for now for we are nearly there in any case. I can hear the chatter of the others even now just up ahead. Can you hear them?"

There was a pause.

"No, I cannot."

This made Arandur pick up his pace again, worried for the exhaustion that pulled upon the prince's voice. He wished the child to rest somewhat before they ate and took repose for the night, considering that today held the most excitement he had been privy to over the last few months. The other acquiesced to this burst of speed, seeming to sense, if not hear, the nearness of the camp that contained over twenty of the kingdoms best scouts and hunters. They were waiting for their evening meal and would not be happy for it to be delayed any further than it already was.

The litter jolted again and Arandur was forced to release his end, letting it slip out of his fingers and drop to the forest floor. He turned around, thoroughly annoyed.

"Blast it all! Legolas if you cannot…"

He stopped as he saw the young elf's face for the first time since they had started their trek. It was pale as death, sweat beading over his forehead and eyes looking at him with an intensity that frightened him. He looked like he had just realized something.

"I think…there is something…wrong." Was all Legolas said before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he keeled forward, Arandur only barely making it to catch him in time.

He scooped the young one up into his arms and made a mad dash towards the camp, trying to ignore how cold the body was or how he could not sense breath coming from his mouth. It was only a few minutes that felt like so much longer when he finally burst into the clearing, ignoring the calls for him to stop as he aimed directly for the rope ladder that led to the flet high in the branches. He passed the prince to the first person who approached him.

"Make him warm and get water boiling!" he said, the other nodding and quickly carrying out his orders. As an esteemed healer, Arandur was rarely question and in any case, the situation looked dire the moment he had rushed into the camp.

Climbing through the hole in the floor of the flet, he looked around and quickly located the satchel that contained all of his herbs and ointments. He picked it up, slung it over one shoulder, then clambered down again to face the biggest mystery he had yet ever come across.

The child's clothing had been loosened and a blanket had been tucked tight round his lower body and waist to keep him warm. The water was on the boil and there were two scouts wiping at his forehead which, as Arandur could see as he came closer, was streaming.

He kneeled next to him, feeling his heartbeat that was so weak and erratic and began to work on him. Healing him, purging his body, trying to find out how this had happened.

After a short time his fingers brushed against something lumpy behind the child's head, just under the hairline. He gently turned the feverish prince over and pulled back the hair, blinking and licking his dry lips in horror.

Two small holes, the skin around them swelled with the infection of an enlarged version of what could only be described as a spiderbite.

A spider. One of Hers. And Arandur, for the first time in his long life as a healer, had no idea how to fix this. All he knew was that Ungoliant was evil and poison in their purest form and Legolas was going to die. He had never heard of anyone living.

"He is gone. He whispered. Arandur closed the still prince's frozen eyes with a shaking hand, wiping his forehead and trying to keep his breath steady.

"Gone?" said someone close by, confusion marring his features.

"Yes. Prince Legolas of Greenwood the Great has been taken from us." Arandur forced his voice to be steady, but his face showed confusion and grief unparalleled. He breathed deeply, turned and walked into the trees as the grief threatened to make him burst.

Then the singing started. And then he wept.

**TBC**

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**AN:** Again ever so sorry for such a hanger. But do not start killing me just yet for this or complaining of Non Canon (it is AU already people. Hmph) as this story still has a long way to go before it is even remotely finished. My notes in point form took up several pages and that's not even including the massive amount of filler story that is taking place. There is an explanation for everything. So be upset sure, just…no killing. Yet, heh.

**Review Responses:**

_Calenlass Greenleaf_: Hirgon IS a fun character for me to write. But no, he is purely my own creation and has much evolving to go through before he reaches the point in my imagination that is perfect. So we shall see what happens with this stone wielder now won't we. And yes, I'm a sadistic cow, just ask Eric-Jan or another friend and they will agree.

_Nadja_: Ok this name looks familiar but I am wondering if it's the same girl I am thinking of as I know only one Nadja in this world. Anyway, elves CAN sleep as Tolkien never specified what occurs when an elf is NOT having to walk and "sleep" at the same time. Also the boys were quite young and I never have liked the notion of sleeping with your eyes wide open. I prefer to think of it as the fact they never let them close all the way and CAN walk while drifting with this half-closed expression. While in a comfortable bed though, I find it too easy to consider all elves sleep with open eyes and wished to make diversions with this un-proven Tolkien fact.


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